Fate Broken Dream

[Dunno.]

Chapter 1: A horrible dream.

The story begins with a boy, no older than twelve, stumbling into a world filled with nothing but decay, where death was a mere inconvenience to those that roamed the deary streets of Yharnam, a city known for its medical advances around the practice of blood ministration.

The boy awoke with a silent gasp, laying within the sterile walls of a clinic. There, he met a peculiar creature, its body was adorned with unruly fur smudged in patches of red, carrying the heavy stench of putrefaction. Terrified, the child ran as far as his little legs could, but was unable to escape the monster. With a single leap, the thing caught up and swiped using its elongated limb, knocking him to the ground. In one swift motion, the monster cracked its jaws wide open, revealing a maze of jagged teeth, and masticated the child's cranium with a bone-crushing snap.

Instead of dying, however, he awoke once more, unscathed. This time, he was inside a mysterious space beyond the reach of those who could lay harm upon him—the Hunter's Dream. Above, past the muted clouds, hung a pale moon, its radiance nothing short of entrancing. It remained unmoving, observing the entire dimension like a watchful eye. Further away, the boy found a path leading up to a towering gothic structure and allowed curiosity get the better of him. Inside, he met his first teacher, Gerhman—the First Hunter—who taught him most of what needed to know.

Later, after gaining the ability to perceive things one normally couldn't, he encountered a motherly porcelain-puppet with a head of lustrous silver hair, powered by the arcane—the Doll, whom showered him with much needed care and affection. Getting comfortable with the Doll's presence, the boy told her of his ambition, which was to become a Hero of Justice in memory of his late father. She donned a tender smile, encouraging him to follow his dreams… only to be betrayed by those very same aspirations as he went on to free Yharnam from the horrors that plagued it. He wished to save those he could, but failed no matter what; every choice, every decision he made, without fail, led to the demise of those he tried to protect, resulting in the young man's mind to steadily collapse, endlessly taunted by his failures.

Many years after his arrival into this world of nightmares, he lied on a field of muted lillies that gently swayed in the wind, surrounded by countless headstones which neatly populated the edge of the flowerbed. To the side, the colding carcass of a Great One - the source of all his suffering - lay motionless, dead. And with its death came the end of this everlasting night of terrors. The young man barked out a mirthless laugh, the echo of his voice reverberated across the Hunter's Dream before fading into silence. The Last Hunter closed his eyes shut, his expression peaceful as he prepared to take his final breath.

"Farewell, Good Hunter. May you find your worth in the waking world," the Doll's voice, filled with warmth and solace, reached the young man's ears right before his senses ceased to function.

Within the bustling city of Fuyuki, Japan, a young boy—Shirou Emiya—sat motionless on a chair, his head craned high as he gazed into the starless night sky, his expression detatched with eyes pitiless as the sun. The pale moon was bright and the winds were calm, sending a light breeze throughout the bed of pale flowers that surrounded him, causing his red hair to sway.

He used to dream of a world filled with nothing but death and nightmarish abominations beyong Man's comprehension, but not anymore. He was free, unshackled, yet remained burdened by his experience. He wanted to cry out, apologize to those he had failed, yet not a single tear was shed. He locked away the traits of what made him human, becoming nothing more than a shell of his former self.

An older individual, a woman by the name of Taiga Fujimura, entered the garden, staring at Shirou's figure with a look of sorrow. He used to be a cheerful young lad, always trying his best to bring a smile to the lips of those around him… until a week ago, that is. She could not help but recall his abrupt change and the likely cause of it—his adoptive father's death. Since the passing of Kiritsugu Emiya, Shirou was never the same; he became eerily quiet, his mannerisms shifted greatly from an optimistic young man to a cold blue-blooded persona.

Fearing for the boy's mental state, she took him to multiple hospitals, but her efforts to help Shirou was for naught. The doctors could not revert his personality to how it was in the past, attributing this sudden change to shock, and advised her to leave it be lest it gets worse. Powerless to do anything, Taiga could do nothing but hope for the best.

---

I sat on a chair next to a table, my back straight, an air of gentleness mixed with thorns surrounding my form. My piercing gray eyes studied the open book in my hand. A little over a month had elapsed since my escape from that horrible dream, yet the nightmares persisted even to this day. I reached forward, picking up a teacup from the desk, and took a sip, soothing my nerves.

Gently placing the cup down, I returned my full attention to the book. Each facet of my movements was unnecessarily refined, a byproduct of my tenure under Castle Cainhurst. Before her untimely demise at the hands of Alfred, an executioner of the Holy Church, I had served Annalise, Queen of the Vilebloods, as her one and only servant at Castle Cainhurst. Throughout my time there, she had taught me a myriad of things: how to play various instruments, how to dance, and most importantly, she broke down my modern way of thinking and ingrained various habits into my bones, molding me into a fully-fledged noble.

Being the only sane-minded person there, the duty of cleaning her enormous abode fell onto my lone shoulders. Removing filth from what was essentially an abandoned manor was, perhaps, one of the hardest things I had done that didn't involve drawing blood. But I persevered and eventually managed to restore Castle Cainhurst's beauty. Its grand halls and intricate tapestries shone once more, a testament to my dedication.

Turning my head to the side, I saw a young woman enter the scene, her eyes twinkling with wonder as it scanned the scenery before her. Taiga Fujimura opened her mouth, speaking, "You know, Shirou, I can't help but feel amazed no matter how many times I see this place."

"Thank you, I placed great care into maintaining this place. You're welcome to come and relax here anytime," I replied, head slightly tilted in greeting. I then asked, "Do you require anything of me, Taiga?"

"Well, not me. My gramps said he wanted your help with his motorcycle or something," she revealed. Her grandfather, Raiga Fujimura, often requested my expertise in tuning mechanical components, so it wasn't odd for the man to seek my assistance every now and then.

"I see. I'll be joining you in a moment," I responded positively and snapped the book shut, setting it on the table. This caught the woman's interest, prompting her to ask what I was reading. Caressing the book's cover, I answered, "It's something I picked up some time ago. It tells the story of the world's destruction caused by the gods' inability to let go of the past. Written by an author that goes by Marvelous Chester."

"Huh, never heard of it. Sounds interesting, though," she comments. Taiga wasn't really the type to read novels, preferring to watch movies and shows instead.

"Indeed it is," I uttered. My mind suddenly blurred as the memories of my time in Castle Cainhurst, where I obtained the book, resurfaced. While it was a grueling challenge to cleanse an entire mansion of tarnish all on my own, it was much better than slaughtering beasts without rest. It was a temporary reprieve from the haunting images and relentless nightmares.

"You know… you should smile like that more often," Taiga's voice reached my ears, pulling my out of my reverie.

Taiga rarely ever saw Shirou show any kind of emotion for the past couple of years, so seeing him do so, albeit unconsciously, made her smile as well. But she knew it wouldn't last, like always. She then turned her back before the emotion on his face vanished, returning inside the Emiya home, leaving the young man abandoned.

'What did she say?' my thoughts stirred. I raised my hand, feeling the corners of my mouth to verify Taiga's statement. It was as she said—a smile had captured my lips. As if it had never appeared in the first place, my curled lips thinned into a fine line as a mask of impassiveness covered my face.

Turning my head, I caught a glimpse of a intricately crafted headstone resting by the end of the courtyard. The sun peeked through muted clouds, casting bright rays onto the monument, revealing the name etched on its surface—Kiritsugu Emiya.

"My deepest apologies, Father. I have failed to uphold my promise," I eked out, my voice barely above a whisper. I had promised to inherit his dream: to be a Hero of Justice that will save everyone in front of them, but I had failed in the end.

Standing still, my mind wandered once more. To this day, I remained clueless as to how I even ended up in that cruel world, as I had not a strand of connection to it. But one thing was clear—it was real. The pain and agony I experienced told me so. At first, I refused to acknowledge it, hoping it was just some bad dream. Oh, how foolish I was.

Under the guiding hands of Gerhman, I took up arms, fully assimilating into the role of a Hunter. I slaughtered the monsters that stalked the streets, believing I was purging the world of evil. At the start, my fighting skills were, to say the least, abysmal, it took but a single starved dog to send me to the nearest Lamp. I was just young boy with zero knowledge of combat, after all. However, with time and mentorship from numerous different people, I grew adept at utilizing a vast array of weaponry, gaining much needed skills to survive for longer durations.

Soon, I stumbled upon the grim truth of what I was hunting: they were not mindless beasts who indiscriminately killed, but helpless victims of powers beyond their control. After uncovering this truth, I confronted Gerhman. He affirmed my findings, revealing that every monster I'd felled with my own two hands was once human, afflicted by a bloodborne disease—the Beast Scourge—that transformed them into what they had become. I desperately sought a way to reverse the transformation, to save those unfortunate souls. Surely, there was some cure? But the people had already tried everything in their power and ended up empty-handed.

There was no helping them now. Only by killing them could they be granted the peace they deserved. The reality that I had been killing people all this time caused the contents of my stomach to heave. The weight of my sins bore down on me, and I vomited as the horror of my actions sank in.

Snapped out of my trance, my breaths turned haggard before quickly returning to normal. Lowering my head in shame, I turned and walked away in complete silence. I was undeserving of happiness—I was a monster. I slew those who obstructed my path forward, be it beasts, other Hunters who've succumbed to bloodlust, or Great Ones—the very gods who ruled over the world. Dozens, hundreds, thousands; I have perished in ways no sane person could even start to imagine, all for a chance of ending this dreadful nightmare.

The echoes of my footsteps were the only sound in the area, a haunting reminder of the lives I had taken and the humanity I had lost.

END.​

Author's notes: A short snippet I made out of boredom. I don't know if I'll continue it, though.

 

[Dunno.]

Chapter 2: Hero.

Once morning came, I sprung up from my bed and prepared breakfast. It was a simple dish but I savoured each second of it. Food in Yharnam wasn't the greatest; you'd be lucky to even find a string of edible meat. Because of this, Hunters had forgone eating entirely and sustained themselves using a Blood Vial's healing properties. Many Hunters forgot what food even tasted like. In fact, the most they probably swallowed was their own blood from injuries they've accumulated. Much like everyone else, I too followed the trend and started to forget what eating felt like.

It was truly a breathtaking experience to consume edible food once again after many years. After eating, I donned a simple set of garb suitable for my twelve-year-old self and grabbed a small bag filled with school supplies, then went outside.

Stepping beyond the confines of my home, I was immediately greeted by activity, a complete contrast to the city of blood ministration—Yharnam. Life within such a horrid place, be it animal or greenery, was either dead and rotting or alive yet withering, awaiting its inevitable death. What my eyes currently perceived, however, was none of that. Birds flew through the clear skies in flocks, chirping as they went, unlike the carrion crows that crawled within the grim alleyways of central Yharnam, shrieking ferociously at whoever was nearby.

Closing the door behind me, my feet took me to the sidewalk beside a wide, empty road. Humans, untouched by the Scourge of Beasts, walked around in groups or solo, carrying an array of items while engaging in casual banter. It was refreshing. Unlike the desolate streets I was used to seeing, people of all shapes and sizes walked towards their destinations without the worry of monsters lurking around every corner.

The sun's bright glare landed on my motionless form, yet instead of shirking away from the heat, I basked in it with curiosity. Most areas in Yharnam were either bathed in an eternal afternoon glow or were in a constant state of twilight, never once having contact with the sun. It was nice getting much needed sunlight.

In the distance, children chased one another in a park, playing with toys their parents had gifted them, while the guardians watched from a distance, chuckling to themselves as they observed the rambunctious bunch. In this world, children were allowed to wander without fear of losing their families overnight, and parents could stay by their side without fear of the dark.

I resumed my stride, taking my time to admire the scenery while mentally comparing it to Yharnam. Well, it might be a little unfair to place a withering land way past its prime beside a fresh and thriving one like this one. This vibrant world felt like a true dream, it was a wonderful sight I could never get tired of.

Turning a corner, my eyes darted to-and-fro to cement every twist and turn I took in my mind. Unlike this place, Yharnam was enourmous; filled with intertwining roads, confusing alley ways, and underground rat-infested tunnels. If one weren't attentive enough, they'd be lost within its labyrinthine streets before they even know it, much like how I did at the start of my journey. One wrong turn and you'd end up somewhere completely different, or worse—die.

Soon enough, I arrive at my destination. The chatter of children flooded the surroundings, their voices blending into a mix of laughter and excitement as they funnel towards the open gate in the middle. It was a normal school you would find just about anywhere.

An image of Byrgenwerth's winding halls and towering shelves flashed in my head, threatening to carve a frown on my lips. Most of the educational bodies I had come across in the dream were dedicated to advancing research into several unscrupulous branches of knowledge, so it was nice seeing a school focused on teaching the next generation instead of using them as test subjects.

Breathing out, I wove through the bustling crowd and entered the structure, eventually arriving in my assigned classroom without further issue. The students' cheerful voices bounced throughout the room as they engaged in small talks with one another.

As much I wanted to fit in, I found no common ground between them and me. Though physically a small child, my frame of mind had long surpassed my vessel. It was a curious phenomenon; before my return into the waking world, my body was that of an adult, having spent many years in the dream. But when I woke up inside the Emiya manor, I was once again back in the body of my twelve-year-old self yet a chunk of my strength remained, compressed into this small body.

Moments later, the teacher walked into the scene and told everyone to return to their seats, staring today's lessons. The minutes went by, eventually stretching into hours. Before I knew it, the bell went off, its sharp rings signifying the end of school hours. Standing, I packed my stuff and emerged outside, my steps poised and silent as the wind.

However, upon passing the public park on the way home, my gait came to a screeching halt as a cold chill crawled up my back. It was a familiar sensation—a creeping feel that made the ends of my hair stand. Catapulted into a heightened state of alertness, my head instinctively snapped to the left where I sensed the disturbance, my eyes reflecting a dangerous glint. Instead of finding a beast or monster as I feared, however, I caught sight of two individuals by a bench.

A boy with curled blue hair stood before a young girl with a head of lilac locks. The latter sat on the seat, head dipped low as the former shouted waves of insults at her. She kept her mouth sealed, her stature demure, letting the rain of harsh comments cascade down upon her without retaliating against it.

This went on for a while, until the boy ran out of words to throw out. After the unjust lambasting, the bluenette turned around and walked away without saying anything else. The girl, with her head still down, stood up and silently followed the after him with a slight limp in her step, indicating some sort of injury.

"Hm," I let out a soft hum. Was it my instincts playing tricks on me, perhaps? No. Having a good hunch was something Hunters develop over the years, dismissing such feeling, no matter how miniscule, would most likely lead to something horrific. So what was it that drew my attention to that pair specifically?

Mayhaps it was just my drive to save someone in trouble flaring up? While not as much, it still occasionally appeared in varying degrees. Then, the young girl's face popped up in my head, causing the corners of my lips to curve downward. It was a familiar look—it belonged to someone who was lost, deprived of something that made them what they are.

Gathering my thoughts, I turned heels and began trailing the duo in pure silence, keeping myself hidden from view. It wasn't difficult to vault over a child's senses, so my activity went without a hitch. They emerged from the crowded streets and crested over a small hill, eventually arriving in front of a mansion that reeked of age.

Nearing the gates, the smell of decay suddenly slammed full force into my nose. Halting my movements, I gazed at the looming abode. The disgusting scent reminded me of Old Yharnam, a place that was torched down by the Holy Church to supress the spread of the beast scourge that they themselves proliferated. My suspicions about this place increased by many folds.

Breaking off from the pair, I started exploring the whole residence while quelling my presence to find the source of this abominable feel. Upon entering, my senses immediately detected an abnormal amount of worms infesting every nook and cranny there was. No… they were not ordinary grubs but something else entirely, though I could not put my finger on it.

After making quick rounds, I found nothing abnormal happening within any of the chambers, leaving the basement as the only space left that I've yet to check. On my way down, however, I encountered the blue-haired young man from earlier, wearing an annoyed look. He was about to enter a room, presumably his, but I stopped him in his tracks.

With my sudden appearance, his eyes widened in panic. His mouth briskly dropped, about to release a startled scream, but my hand shot forward and took hold of his face, preventing any kind of noise from escaping his mouth. Raising both hands, he clawed my arm in a vain attempt to free himself.

Without saying a word, I strengthened my grip on his head, resulting in a muffled, fleshy pop to echo across the room. His limbs lost their vigour, going eerily limp. The gore of the boy's shattered cranium painted the surroundings, filling the air with the smell of death. Blood splattered all over my person, taining my pristine clothes red, but it did not bother me one bit. Being coated in ichor, whether yours or not, is to be expected when out on hunts.

Was this child deserve of such end? Perhaps not, but the cruelty he'd imposed upon others felt all too natural, and I could tell that his mind was clouded with unbending pride judging from his earlier remarks at the park. Had he been given more time to develop, such combination of traits would spawn a man of immense cruelty and selfish personality. It was better to remove such individual now than allow them to roam the city any further.

Unceremoniously dropping the fresh carcass, I resumed my march deeper into this wicked home. I made my way down a lengthy flight of stone stairs and was greeted by disturbing sight. Below the mansion was a large pit filled to the brim with bloated worms violating the same purple-haired girl from earlier—breaching and emerging from her insides like clockwork, causing unimaginable pain to her as she lied bare in the center of it all.

Witnessing this horrendous act taking place, my vision was briefly tinted red in anger before regaining my calm. I was better than this, one should never let emotions control their actions in any situation. I trained my gaze at the shady figure standing to the side—it was a bald man with a hunched back, the creases on his face indicative of his age. He wore a plain set of robes, a walking stick in his grasp, and was surrounded by a revolting air that elicited unconditional hatred with just a glance.

Quietly making my way to his flank, I reeled my arm back before rocketing it forward with force. My hand easily pierced through his flesh and ribcage with a squelch, skewering his heart and poking out the other end in the blink of an eye.

Pulling my limb back, I flicked my hand out of reflex to rid it of blood, to my surprise, however, not a trace of liquid had covered my arm. Instead of falling to the ground as I expected, the individual quickly turned around and palmed his gaping chest, glaring daggers at me.

"You… the barriers are still intact, so how did you get in here?" the man demanded, his voice lowering into a dangerous octave. His familiars should've been watching the entire house, and how did this child even slip past his wards when they weren't broken or tampered with?

My eyes narrowed as a congregation of bugs scuttled over to him and steadily mended the hole in his chest. Only now did I realize that he wasn't fully human. It seems my physique wasn't the only thing that was diminished, but my insight as well. Nonetheless, this revelation won't make a difference. Without pause, my thoughts pieced together a plan, 'It seems I need something that could kill this… thing in one fell swoop.'

Refusing to answer his question, I pulled my conciousness inward, inducing myself in a state of hypnosis to reach the space lying dormant within me. Following this, a veil of fog begun to coalesce within my hand, shaping itself into a familiar weathered scythe—the Burial Blade, Gerhman's weapon of choice.

During my stay in the Hunter's Dream, a peculiar skill of mine awakened while under the First Hunter's tutelage—an entire dimension was discovered within my soul. Realizing this, he hypothesized that this inner world of mine was the reason I got pulled into Yharnam, though he wasn't entirely sure. One thing he did determine was that this space inside me was not only capable of storing and dispensing any bladed weapon I've come across, giving me a near-infinite supply of armaments at a cost of mana, or arcane energy as Gerhman called it, but it also allowed me to glean into each weapon's past and emulate its user's techniques to a frightening degree.

Brandishing the Burial Blade, I glared at the individual before me. Seeing my stance, the old man clicked his tongue and stated, "Are children nowadays allowed to barge into an old man's home uninvited and assault them or are magi brats getting bolder? What do you hope to accomplish by breaking into my workshop, boy?"

Instead of responding verbally, I charged forward without an ounce of hesitation. The floor shattered underneath the force of my stomps, sending shards of stone flying in all directions.

Reacting swiftly, the old man waved his hand, summoning a wall of vile worms that quickly formed, intending to swallow me whole. With a flurry, the aged scythe danced through the air, a whirlwind of death that struck everything around me. The living partition was dismantled into unrecognizable chunks in a heartbeat, catching the mastermind behind it by surprise. He could not have possibly expected a 'child' like myself to possess such power.

Taking advantage of his momentary lapse in attention, I gripped my weapon firmly and delved into its memories to employ the art of Quickening—a lost technique only the First Hunters had learned. My body produced a small haze before abruptly bursting into a cloud of fog that propagated across the space. In an instant, I crossed the distance between us and manifested before the despicable crook.

The old man remained still, paralyzed by the sight before him. The child's form began to contort and twist into unholy proportions, shaping itself into a being that defied description—a vision so grotesque that mere words could drive a person insane. As if it had never existed, the vision vanished suddenly, yet its effects on him remained.

Rotating my upper body, I held the scythe high above my head and executed a swift diagonal slash, halving the old man in one clean stroke. He did not let out so much as a scream or a whimper; his body simply fell to the floor with a sickening thud.

Despite knowing he had the ability to reform himself, not a shred of worry appeared on my face. He would not rise again—ever. The Burial Blade's unique ability would ensure that. It was an odd but incredibly useful trait; once registered inside my inner dimension, weapons with enough history would gain some form of ability, a manifestation of their chronicles. In this case, the Burial Blade was capable of permanently destroying one's essence, embodying Gerhman's wish to free those who came after him, never to awaken to another harrowing nightmare.

Along with his demise, the worms around me, including the ones that made up his physical body, ceased their movements before fading into motes of particles a moment later. Just like that, the battle reached its conclusion. No flair—nothing. This was not a fight between two equals, but a predator hunting its prey. I could've ended this sooner by using a more powerful tool in my arsenal, but utilizing more than this was wholly unnecessary.

Turning, I stepped into the pit, now free from those vile grubs, leaving the girl's body untouched in the middle. She continued to lay there peacefully, doing nothing despite the changes around her. Had it not been for the slow rise and fall of her chest, I would have mistaken her for a corpse.

"Young one, let me free you from this evil," I stated, my voice carrying a heaviness that belied my appearance.

I stood before her unmoving self, looking at the girl's open eyes that stared into nothingness. With a heave, I lifted the scythe high and whispered a soft prayer before swinging it down at tremendous speed towards her neck, intending to end her life in one clean motion. Its keen edge connected with her soft skin, drawing blood—a single drop of blood.

My arms turned rigid, halting the Burial Blade in place right next to her delicate flesh. Her expression never changed from that of acceptance, as if the untold agony she was subjected to moments prior was but a normal procedure in life. Seeing this, I hesitated.

"No… no, no, no..." I repeated like a broken record. Stepping back, the scythe in my hand vanished with a puff of smoke. I fell to my knees in defeat and slowly collected my wits, then spoke to myself, "What am I doing? This is no Dream... Yharnam is long gone. Why… why?"

The room around me seemed to blur as my mind raced. The girl's unflinching gaze weighed heavily on me, a silent plea for release or salvation. The echoes of my failures rang in my ears, a cacophony of guilt and doubt. I had grown comfortable killing people as a way to save them—to rid them of their suffering. There was no need for that anymore. Killing wasn't always the solution. There was nothing in this world that warranted such a response; no blood scourge infecting the common man, threatening the safety of the people. And unlike then, I now had the tools and equipment to save someone.

"I… I can save you. Yes… I can, right?" I sputtered out, my voice barely above a whisper. My hands trembled as I reached for her, determination and desperation mingling within me.

---

From within Sakura Matou's—the young girl—soul, a being of pure enmity compressed itself into a small point, trying its best to remain undetected by the creature in human skin watching its host. It wriggled in utter fear, retreating as far as it could in a desperate attempt to stay hidden. Its efforts weren't for naught; Shirou Emiya was too preoccupied at the moment, giving the being time to shield itself from view.

As Sakura's consciousness returned, the first thing her senses picked up were the soft pings of a chime, a soothing melody that seemed to cleanse the air of lingering dread. Her eyes creaked open to find the face of a young man with red hair her age, his hands firmly wrapped around hers as if afraid they would disappear the moment he let go. Sensing her stir from her slumber, a stream of tears began to flow from the boy's eyes, caused by a surge of emotions.

"Yes… yes! You're alive! Thank you! Th-thank… you..." he spoke words of gratitude again and again, voice trembling, his smile as bright as the stars. At long last, after uncountable failures, the Good Hunter had successfully saved someone. His resolve solidified as a new purpose began to take shape in his heart.

To her ears, his words became incoherent ramblings as he drifted off into his speech. She didn't understand—why was he thanking her? Her mind gradually began to lose focus, yet the image of his smiling face remained at the forefront of her mind. His happiness seemed so genuine, so… pure. Sakura's gaze drifted to the young man's eyes, filled with an unwavering resolve and a depth of compassion she had never seen before.

The warmth of his grip, the sincerity in his voice—it was all so foreign to her. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, a glimmer of hope flickered within her. Before she lost consciousness again, a single thought flashed through her mind.

Could she ever be that happy?

END.​